The Midnight Hours

They behave as though
supremely entitled, boldly
setting forth, their nocturnal
trysts with our composters
a study in recycling cast-off
foodstuffs unfit for our
selective consumption, but
just dandy in their nature-refined
estimation, leaving little to rot
into garden-variety compost.
Though they move with confidence
and the grace of nature's favour
they also go abroad at the
midnight hour, masked and
stealthy, our furry guests.

The feeders we place for the
cold-weather convenience of
migrants and over-wintering
birds has a certain renown and
decided popularity among the
diurnal contingent of 
neighbourhood squirrels, but the
night hours belong to the raffish
raccoons delicately picking
among seeds and nut offerings
their own particular treats.